


The Not-Nineteen-Year-Old Man Who Robbed a Bank, and His Soulmate

by myu_gao



Category: MewGulf - Mew Suppasit Jongcheveevat/Gulf Kanawut Traipipattanapong, เกลียดนักมาเป็นที่รักกันซะดีๆ | TharnType: The Series (TV), เกลียดนักมาเป็นที่รักกันซะดีๆ | TharnType: The Series (TV) RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Fluff and Crack, M/M, Magical Realism, cat walker!gulf, criminal!mew
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:27:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27251920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myu_gao/pseuds/myu_gao
Summary: “You can’t really come back from a bank heist and multiple arson charges.”“I don't know, I think it could be a lot worse. I could be a murderer.""You were trying to convince me of your innocence, not remind me of the fact that you have a knife to my neck."---In a twist of fate that could only be described as absurd, professional cat walker Gulf Kanawut Traipipattanapong discovers that his soulmate is a bank robber slash fire-setter slash fur daddy to a very adorable little pomeranian. Things could be worse.
Relationships: Mew Suppasit Jongcheveevat/Gulf Kanawut Traipipattanapong
Comments: 10
Kudos: 33





	The Not-Nineteen-Year-Old Man Who Robbed a Bank, and His Soulmate

In a twist of fate that could only be described as absurd, professional cat walker Gulf Kanawut Traipipattanapong discovers that his soulmate is a bank robber slash fire-setter slash fur daddy to a very adorable little pomeranian. He’s also being lectured about how this man is an  _ arsonist, not a fire-setter _ and  _ yes, isn’t Chopper adorable? _ as a sharp blade glints menacingly at his throat.

_ What a fantastic way to start the week _ , Gulf thinks sardonically. Thank gods he doesn’t have any cats to walk on Mondays. But back to the point. There’s a knife at his neck, and it’s way too close for Gulf’s liking. There’s also a handsome man at the end of that knife, and while Gulf may be into bad boys, he’s not sure criminals are quite his cup of tea.

“Look man, I’d love to talk to you about your dog. Really. But you know. Maybe without the knife at my neck?” He asks hopefully.

“It’s for my protection.” The man - who’d introduced himself as Mew (except what kind of criminal introduces themselves?) - answers. Gulf raises a strong brow.

“I literally just watched you stuff a couple of thousand baht notes into your pocket. The same pocket you took this knife out of.” Gulf deadpans, “All in all, I’d say I’m the one in danger.” There’s also the fact that he now knows Mew has robbed the Nonthanburi branches of most Thai banks. And also tried to set fire to many a museum. The worst Gulf has done is kill a cockroach, and those disgusting creatures deserve it.

“I thought you were a criminal too! I needed an alibi!” Gulf looks down at his outfit. Dark hoodie, with the hood over his head. Equally dark jeans, scuffed-up sneakers. HIs backpack is suspiciously full, just because Gulf’s shit at packing stuff, and he can never decide which rock of alum he wants to use after soccer practice. Well, he can’t say Mew’s assumption is entirely unfounded.

“Anyways.” Mew looks straight at him suddenly, and Gulf suddenly shuts up as if he’s been struck by lightning. In his defense, Mew has very nice eyes. Is that an arsonist thing too? If the eyes are the window to this soul, then this man can come burn him up anytime.

Not the point. Gulf clears his throat.

“You can’t really come back from a bank heist and multiple arson charges.” He tries.

Mew shrugs nonchalantly.

“I don't know, I think it could be a lot worse. I could be a murderer."

"You were trying to convince me of your innocence, not remind me of the fact that you have a knife to my neck." Gulf deadpans.

Mew hesitates, looking between Gulf and his neck and his knife. Chuckles a little.

“I guess you’re right.” He keeps the knife at Gulf’s neck, though he loosens his grip just the slightest bit. "Anyways, I really am innocent."

"You disabled multiple security cameras, climbed to the top of the bank roof, stole some money, and now you’re threatening to kill me. I don’t think you’re innocent.” 

Mew looks at him, mouth open though the words don’t come. Yeah, pretty hard to make  _ that _ story seem innocent. Gulf closes Mew’s jaw for him - wouldn’t want a fly making its way into this criminal’s mouth. He deserves a harsher punishment than that. The hand around the knife slackens even more.

Maybe this is a good time to backtrack. Take a look at how professional cat walker Gulf Kanawut - sometimes innocent, always sleepy - came to be in this very compromising position with one very handsome arsonist.

He’d been going through his usual Monday routine. This Monday hasn’t turned out like usual, but boy, if you could turn back time and tell the Gulf from approximately eight hours ago that, he probably wouldn’t believe you. The life of a professional cat-walker is simultaneously more routine yet more interesting than you could imagine.

As he was saying, his Monday had been very routine - Gulf had returned to his family home in the morning to have lunch with his mother, who nagged at him about coming home more often, and his sister, who forced him to model some clothes for her newest collection. Gulf had groaned about being forced to model, but had asked for the photos after the shoot was done. He has to keep his Instagram game strong, after all.

Afterwards he had left for the soccer field, but not before washing all the dishes (he’s a good boy). He’d played a couple of games with some high school friends until the sky grew dark. All in all, a relatively normal day. A good day, even. At least up until that point.

See, Gulf had been on his way home when it happened. Safe, sweaty, and satisfied from the soccer games. In retrospect, he hadn’t looked like the most innocent of figures with his hood pulled over most of his face and the filled, black backpack on his shoulder. Ironically, it’d been the backpack that had done it.

This is why his mom always nagged at him to replace his things. Gulf had a tendency to use everything he owned until it was either broken, unusable, or some combination of both. As his mother would say, if it ain’t broken, don’t fix it. She tells him that doesn’t apply to things that are literally falling apart at the seam, but Gulf likes this backpack.

He’s had this backpack since his high school days (nothing like a good ol’ backpack to keep sentimental memories), but today was the unfortunate day it chose to fail on him. And Gulf’s always been good with haunted houses, but he can’t stop the way he jumps when he hears a loud thump and the crinkle of crushed leaves behind him.

_ Gods, _ he’d thought vaguely,  _ this is the perfect setting for a horror movie. _ Dark night, empty street, lone figure located conveniently next to an alleyway...

Really, Gulf’s brain truly comes up with optimal thoughts for the best of times.

He carefully turns around, and nearly startles out of his skin when he looks into an empty alleyway. Shudders just a little bit. Spooky season  _ is _ around the corner after all. The culprit of the noise, he notices, is his soccer ball, which is currently rolling further into the alleyway than Gulf is comfortable exploring. Which sucks, since it’s his favourite one - it has just the right bounce.

Then, as if things couldn’t get any more terrifying, there’s a  _ swoosh _ , this time coming from somewhere above. Gulf startles - maybe it’s a bird, maybe it’s a plane? (Nope, not at all.)

A strange man had jumped down from the building above. No big jump, but anything more than a metre’s jump is pretty high in Gulf’s book. (Apparently the man had had a rope. He wasn’t some kind of superhero - or supervillain, in this case. Just a regular fire-setter.)

Except honestly, outside of this night, the strange man wouldn’t have been that strange. He’s in a pretty fashionable fit: a beige polo shirt and plaid pants. Gulf doesn’t know a lot about fashion, but that looks like Burberry plaid. In any other setting, he’d look like your average metrosexual. But this is a dark, dark Monday night in a dingy little alleyway.

“What are you doing here?” The strange man had asked.

“What are  _ you _ doing here?”, Gulf had asked him in return. He gets a strangely superfluous answer.

Mew proceeded to explain exactly how he got there, all the way down to the very unnecessary details. Which bank he’d just robbed (the one a street over), how much he’d stolen (which Gulf is going to forget ASAP lest he be suspected as a co-conspirator), how much he likes setting fire to things ( _ just to watch the flames burn _ , he says) and how exactly he’d gotten to this very position. So. A criminal. Except he’s not wearing a mask or even attempting to conceal his identity, which is pretty disappointing to Gulf. What kind of shoddy criminal doesn’t have a mask?

He’d also, very unnecessarily, told Gulf his name was Mew, he was a fellow criminal, and he urgently needed an alibi.  _ Fellow criminal? _ Gulf had been about to protest. He’s a lot of things (mostly good things, really) but he’s not a criminal.

Then Mew had looked into Gulf’s eyes, and realized, perhaps a little belatedly, that Gulf was not a criminal. At least that’s what Gulf assumes had happened. The reality was that Mew just stared at Gulf’s face for an uncomfortably long time until Gulf realized his hood was pulled slightly back and snatched it back into place.

(Later Gulf will learn that his first hunch had been correct, that Mew had just looked at his wide eyes once he could see them, then thought his eyes were really pretty and promptly decided that someone with eyes that pretty could not possibly be a criminal.)

Anyways. Back to the present. Mew is looking at him thoughtfully, and the already-slack grip on his knife becomes even more slack.

“You know what, I like you. Even though you’re a cat lover.”  _ Oh, lord have mercy. _ Is Gulf going to be let go? It’s late and he hasn’t done much today, but being held at knife-point makes one more tired than you would expect. He’s going, but not before he defends his beloved cats.

“Firstly, cats are great! They purr! They have a general distaste for humankind! What’s not to love? Secondly, your name is Mew, for godssake.” Mew shrugs in acknowledgement.

“That’s fair.”

At this point, there’s an alarm - it sounds bubblegum-y, and it’s not in Thai. Korean?

“Oh, looks like I’ve got to go do my research,” Mew says, taking his phone out of his back pocket just to double check. _Research? Research on what? Flammable substances?_ _Should Gulf be trying to stop this?_

“Wait - “ Gulf starts, but he’s cut off by strong yet delicate fingers on his chin. Mew smirks at him. Like he knows Gulf’s ears are red even without looking.

“See you later, kitten.” Mew disappears into the darkness, the most criminal-like thing he’s done all night.

Only long after this encounter does Gulf think:  _ How did he know I like cats? _

* * *

Apparently the arsonist has taken a liking to him.

_ Hey, arsonists have feelings too,  _ Mew had protested. Gulf was too busy trying to stop Ju from dragging him in the other direction to give a proper answer. Ju probably thought the leash was an infringement on her personal freedom - Gulf would have agreed, but he’d seen the cat saunter confidently across a car-filled crosswalk. He wasn’t taking his chances.

At least he hadn’t been in danger. There wasn’t much Mew could do on a busy street, especially since he’d been holding shopping bags in both of his hands. Gulf had waved him off.

“Go rob a bank or something, I’m busy.”

“Banks are boring _,_ ” Mew had said. _In comparison to what?_

“I enjoy having money,” Gulf had replied, “for a job I’m not going to have for much longer if Ju gets off this leash.” Mew had frowned in thought.

“No banks, then. What would you prefer?”

“I like pad kaprao.” Gulf had said offhandedly. It’d been a joke - he’d been thinking:  _ if arsonists have feelings they must understand jokes, right? _

Right?

“Wait, Mew, you know - “ Where Mew and his ten shopping bags had been replaced with just the front of a pet store.  _ What? How? _ Gulf had looked left, looked right. Did it again. Multiple times. Faster. Any trace of the man had completely vanished.

“Not even a hair left behind.” Gulf had mumbled. Mew’s good at his job, he had supposed. Hopefully he’d understood the joke as well.

* * *

The next day, Gulf gets out of bed. It’s early afternoon, and he goes about the first part of his daily routine pretty normally. Brushes his teeth, washes his face, scrolls through his spectacular collection of cat memes. It’s very carefully curated.

Just then, a notification pops up, a text message from Mild. Gulf frowns. Mild’s supposed to be at work, though he supposes that’s never really stopped their constant exchange of cat memes and back-and-forth about whether the chicken or the egg came first.

Mild’s just texted him about staying safe. The gist of the message is: _ heard of a bank heist in your area, stay careful. Hope nothing shady happened to you yesterday, and that you’re alive and reading this message safely. _ This is, of course, peppered with a constant amount of emojis. Typical Mild. 

_ Confronted by a dude in some alleyway yesterday, but I’m safe _ , Gulf sends back. He belatedly realizes: Hm. Maybe not his smartest moment. He’d forgotten how good of a journalist Mild is, how good he is at asking questions.

**Mild**

OOOOOOMG😱😱😱😱

do u rmb what he looked like?

how tall he was?

any like

noticeable features?

or names? places?

Gulf remembers Mew’s face all right. The scattering of moles on the right cheek (his right? Mew’s right? Gulf’s never been stellar with directions). The high nose. The deep eyes. The sharp jawline.

**Gulf**

um

i freaked out 😅

don’t remember anything

That’s a lie. That’s a fucking lie. Fortunately his text messages don’t belie any of that.

_ Whatever. It’s a harmless lie.  _ Gulf’s probably not gonna see that arsonist ever again, anyways. It’s just the way life works. You don’t tend to bump into the same stranger more than once in life - that’s now how chance works.

(Boy, is Gulf wrong. But to be fair, it’s not really chance that dictates this, but something more akin to fate.)

His first cat-walking appointment of the day is at three, so Gulf has some time (not a lot of time) to go grab some lunch before he goes to work. He’s feeling like some pad kaprao. He’s always feeling like some pad kaprao. Gulf opens the door and - wow, did the universe read his mind? Because there’s already several boxes of pad kaprao outside his door.

Which, now that he thinks about it, seems to be kind of sus. If he looks closer - wait, are those blood stains on the plastic bag? Gulf pulls open the bag just a little bit (he’s not trying to come face to face with possibly a severed hand). Nothing. It’s just pad kaprao, which is good because - no bombs no nothing, but on the other hand, this pad kaprao looks exactly like the pad kaprao from his favourite stall just down the road. He takes a good sniff. Yep, definitely from the stall down the road.  _ Shia. _

He runs down without even bothering with the pad kaprao - yes, down all ten flights of stairs, elevator be damned. Breaks into the restaurant to find - Mew? Sitting smack dab in the middle of it all? Pouting?

(Last part isn't that relevant to the situation, but it is to Gulf. So there.)

“What did you do?” Gulf’s voice edges into a growl, and Mew raises his arms in surrender.

“Nothing too bad. Was the pad kaprao good?” If no one stops him within the next ten seconds, Gulf can and  _ will _ strangle this man. Where would Gulf even find time to eat the pad kaprao, considering all this? “You were faster than I expected.” The man comments further. Gulf is  _ mad _ mad.

“How could I eat it, when - “ Gulf flails his arms helplessly.  _ When there were red stains on the bag? When I can’t see the owner anywhere?  _ “You robbed the place and - where is the owner?”

The staff are just continuing with their day and serving customers. Some of the customers are staring at him and Mew kind of weirdly. Gulf shies away a little when he notices (sue him, he’s an introvert), but he does not back down.

“I think she’s in the back.” Mew says nonchalantly, pointing to the door leading to the kitchens, “plus I didn’t entirely rob them, I got them some new equipment too.”

Gulf rolls his eyes. Yeah, like that makes the situation any better.

“Did you steal that too?” Gulf asks sardonically as he walks into the kitchen.

Behind him, Mew is saying something along the lines of a denial, but Gulf doesn’t notice, because - what is this? Not only is the owner there, cooking happily on what looks like a new wok, she’s also surrounded by what Gulf assumes is Mew’s idea of ‘some new equipment’. Which is actually insane.

Because the entire kitchen looks like it’s been refurbished, from ceiling to floor. Gulf hasn’t seen much of this kitchen, but he does know it did not look like this before.

“Wha-what?” Gulf stares open-mouthed at it all - from the sleek, modern-looking cabinets, the marble countertops, to the induction stoves, this looks like a kitchen that’s been copy-pasted from a luxury catalogue.

To make things even weirder, apparently the owner and Mew are now acquaintances, because beside him Mew  _ wai _ -s the owner. She beams delightedly back at him.

“Your pad kaprao’s almost ready, khun Mew!” _Khun Mew?_ _Whomst the fuck?_ Mew must see the bewildered look on Gulf’s face.

“I didn’t just buy pad kaprao for you, you know. I’m hungry too.” So a few pad kapraos in exchange for an entirely new kitchen. Not an actual robbery, which Gulf is feeling better about, but that doesn’t reduce the absurdity of this entire situation by one bit.

“You do realize this is a loss for you.” He tells Mew, who doesn’t seem to fully realize the amount of money it takes to refurbish an entire kitchen. A refurbishment  _ he _ paid for.

“Huh?” Gulf is no math aficionado, but he believes that a few pad kapraos compared to an entire new kitchen...it sounds like a loss, lads.

“You could have just made me pad kaprao, you asshole!”  _ Did Gulf just insinuate a criminal should cook him lunch? _ He guesses so.

Puppy eyes from Mew.

“I don’t know how to make it.”

“You’re an arsonist.” Shouldn’t that be a job requirement for arsonists? Be good with fire, be good at cooking, something like that? Gulf doesn’t know. He’s no expert on criminals. Watching the occasional true crime video doesn’t count.

“I’m good at setting things on fire, not cooking with it.”

Gulf sighs. 

“I sure hope this didn’t come from your bank heist money.’

Mew at least has the decency to look sheepish. He stuffs a hand in his pocket, the other coming up to ruffle his hair.

“Um…you see...” It isn’t actually his bank heist money, but Gulf doesn’t know that. So Gulf does what any reasonable, rational person would do. He socks Mew in the face.

**Author's Note:**

> \- just giving the world the criminal!mew it deserves  
> \- manifesting: criminal!mew, gulf in a comedy, gulf as a cat walker  
> \- ANYWAYS I'M SO HYPED FOR TTTS2 NEXT FRIDAY AND NO ONE CAN TAKE THAT FROM ME  
> \- also shoutout to Maylane and Unusual_pb for dealing w my nonsense loll  
> \- [twitter](https://twitter.com/myu_gao)


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